


It all started with...

by Dexidoodle



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, I Don't Give Warnings, good luck, shit happens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:40:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26076580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dexidoodle/pseuds/Dexidoodle
Summary: Modern Westerosi AUIt all started with mixed up suitcases, a stag party and a group of recently graduated young ladies...
Relationships: Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Comments: 37
Kudos: 147





	1. The Gentlemen

**The Gentlemen**

There had been a party of annoying bints a few rows behind him that consistently chittered, warbled and giggled for the entirety of the flight and to be perfectly frank, Sandor was already resigned to be miserable for the duration of the entire trip based on that alone.

He stomped out of the gangway as fast as his long legs would carry him and paced in front of the baggage claim like a caged animal, waiting for the tell tale dusty green of his duffel to appear.

Why the fuck was he in the Summer Isles anyway? He didn’t even like Tyrion Lannister. He didn’t even know the stupid cunt who had agreed to marry him but he was predisposed to not like her either.

He grabbed his duffel off the conveyor as soon as it emerged from the shoot and stomped out of the baggage claim area just before the deluge of other passengers converged on the spot. He knew, somewhere in the chaos, Tormund was submerged. He would eventually fight his way out, but in the mean time Sandor would wait outside.

The Lotus Port International terminal was deceptively cool and a wave of crushing heat swept over Sandor as he exited the building. 

Fucking Hells! Genuine fire and fucking brimstone… It was Hot! He felt rivulets of sweat begin to bead and cascade down between his shoulder blades. He dropped his duffel down onto the scorching tarmac and struggled out of his shirt, more content to swelter in his vest than to broil inside of his excess of clothing.

He hated holidays already.

He and Tormund were the last to arrive on the island, taking a slightly later flight than the rest, making sure that the homefront was securely in the hands of the replacement crew and under the sure leadership of Jorah and that everyone was up to date with their assignments. Sandor was not on board with almost every member of the senior staff of Kingsguard Security abandoning ship, even if it was just for the week. Security was serious business and part of the sense of security that they instilled in their customers, were from the rigid routines and the familiarity with their clients wants and needs. Leaving en-mass was a bad idea.

“Fuck!”

Sandor turned at the exclamation behind him and smirked at Tormund who had just stumbled out of the glass doors.

“My fucking beard is about to combust, Fuck it’s hot!” He bellowed. 

Tormund had a slick silver suitcase with little wheels and an extendable handle… he looked like a right wanker. He stood it up on its end and yanked his jumper up over his head, also opting to sweat in his vest. He also bent down and unzipped the legs of his cargo pants, leaving him in long shorts. Sandor cursed, why didn’t he think of tear away cargos!? He could already feel his jeans dampening with sweat.

“Seen them yet?” Tor asked as he stowed his zipped off legs and jumper.

“Nah.”

“There.” Tor eventually pointed at an innocuous driver standing next to a fancy black town car, under a taxi stand awning and holding up a couple of names on a sign. “I think that’s us.”

The signs read ‘One Ginger Cunt’ and ‘One Ugly Motherfucker’.

“Yep, that’s us.” Sandor grunted, picking up his duffel and slinging it over his shoulder.

He and Tor made their way over to the driver stopping directly in front of him and towering over him.

Tor pointed to himself "Cunt." He introduced himself with a grin. "Motherfucker." He thumbed in Sandors direction.

The driver craned his neck to look up at the two of them one at a time.

"Of course, Sir. May I take your bags?"

Tor grinned down at him and pushed the extendable handle of his wankish rolling case back down, clapping the driver on the shoulder and climbing into the back of the black town car. Sandor dumped his duffel on the sidewalk and followed suit, the driver flinched as a second heavy hand smacked down on his shoulder.

The inside of the car was cool at least, though it seemed cramped with the two giants crammed in side by side. The driver was quick though and the drive to the hotel that Jamie had booked for them was not too far out of Lotus Port. Tor talked non-stop, his first journey out of Westeros seemed to have made him regress to childhood, making him at least twice as annoying as he normally was. Sandor tried to block him out for the duration.

As they pulled under the grass canopy at the hotels entrance, Tormund was literally hanging out of the window like a dog with his tongue out flapping in the warm sea breeze. He practically fell out of the car in his haste to get out, his eyes everywhere and his excited commentary incomprehensible. Sandor, by comparison, was like a grumpy shadow falling over the place as he exited the car. He was hot and he was getting a headache. He waited impatiently for the driver to release his duffel from the boot and then stomped into the air conditioned lobby with relief.

A handsome woman with dark Summer Isle skin and dark cheeky eyes accosted him as soon as he entered and tossed a necklace of beads and shells over his head and handed him some gods forsaken blue drink with a paper umbrella and a plethora of fruit sticking out of it. He sneered at it and then at her. She smiled widely and hurried away to her next victim.

He hoped the blue concoction was booze. He plucked all of the useless crap out of it and chucked the drink back in one and cringed as he swallowed. It was sweet as fuck but at least it was alcohol.

Tor came up next to him, resplendent in ropes of beads and shells. He had a flowery headdress on and a drink in each hand as well an indiscreet lipstick print on his cheek.

"I love this place." He grinned as he sipped at a iridescent green drink though a ridiculously little straw.

"Hound!" 

They both looked around at the boisterous salutation from across the lobby. Jamie Lannister was holding up his younger brother, who was, in turn, holding up his arm to wave them over.

Sandor and Tormund crossed the lobby to meet their group. 

Most of the group were brothers in arms. Sandor, Tor, Bronn, Jamie and young Podrick all serving in the same Troop in the SAS during the war. Varys was former intelligence and a good friend of Tyrion, who was the money behind the Private Security firm that they all worked for now. They all greeted each other as if they hadn't just seen each other just yesterday... Like true mates.

The reason that they had assembled on this gods forsaken island came to the fore as the Groom-to-be got their attention.

“Alright gents, gather 'round.” Tyrion stood up on a lobby chair and turned to face the group. He was still a head shorter than anyone of them. “We have one week in paradise and a pretty fantastic itinerary to look forward to. Fishing Charter tomorrow…”

Varys coughed discretely.

“Ah yes, Varys is exempt from that considering his last foray into the deep blue.” 

They all looked at Varys, some with eyebrows raised in question. He coloured slightly and sniffed disdainfully, looking away. 

“None of your business.” He muttered.

Tyrion grinned at his friend conspiratorially and continued. “Golf at Last Lament the next day, followed by the clubhouse and their world famous humidor. Next day is apparently 3B Day, also known as Beach, Booze and Beauties Day… there’s some kind of pool party in the evening as well. Then it’s jungle warfare paintball…”

Varys coughed discretely.

“Varys is exempt from that one too.” Tyrion glared at Bronn who tried to look innocent and failed miserably.

“Geez, you shoot an intel guy _once_ and they go on about it forever.” He grumbled.

Tormund, Sandor and Jamie chuckled.

“Friday is fightnight. And Jamie has booked a stripper for afterwards.”

“How’d you know that, you squirrelly little bugger?” Jamie asked exasperatedly.

Tyrion gave his brother a flat look. “Because you had her invoiced to the company and I pay the bills. A voluptuous redhead named Roz… and no Varys, you are not exempt.”

Varys looked crestfallen.

“Saturday is a free day to relax before we head back to face my doom.” Tyrion shook his head with a solemn look on his face. “As I am unable to partake, any sexual misadventures must be reported back to me in full so I can live through you vicariously. You are exempt from that one Varys. Did I miss anything?”

“That you’re a perv?” Pod quipped.

“I didn’t miss it, it was already well established.” Tyrion replied smugly. “Jamie has our room keys. Because Jorahs missus has chained his balls to her handbag we’ve got one bed free, but I’m letting Varys have the whole room to himself, I think everyone is okay with that. Let's get settled, poolside drinks at seven.”

Tyrion jumped down from his perch and started to wander towards the elevators.

“Oh bollocks, I forgot.” Tyrion turned back towards them with an apologetic expression. “My sister is sending her eldest spawn to torture us. The little shit will be here from Thursday.”

There was a general groan of disapproval.

“Hey, that’s my nephew.” Jamie said without too much heat.

“He’s my nephew too, I can call him whatever I want and I thought ‘little shit’ was quite charitable…” He started walking away again, this time with Jamie next to him, sniping at each other.

The rest picked up their bags and followed along. Sandor took up the rear noting a group of pretty young women entering the hotel lobby just as they were getting onto the elevator. His eyes flew to a flash of fiery red hair burning in the bright sunlight and from amongst the colourful, giggly group but he didn’t get any other details as the elevator doors eased shut.

They all sweated in the enclosed box for the three floors that they needed to ascend to reach their suites. The doors opened and the seven men spilled out into the vestibule with four doors leading off it.

“We’re two and three.” Jamie handed out keycards. “Two bedrooms per suite. Two guys per room…”

Tormund threw his arm around Sandor in a side hug and held up his keycard. “Hey roomie.” He grinned.

“Don’t touch me.” Sandor groused, trying to throw off his friends arm. He sighed when he was unsuccessful and just let it happen. 

“We can stay up all night and braid each others hair.” Tor continued as he swiped the card and dragged Sandor into the suite followed by Pod and Bronn who were apparently in the other bedroom.

“Fuck off!” Sandor punched Tor in the arm and stalked off to stake his claim on the best bed. 

He selected the superking bed closest to the sliding doors leading out to the balcony and proprietorially upended his duffel right in the middle of it.

His breath caught as a waterfall of brightly coloured and quite skimpy, very feminine clothes spilled out. He held the empty duffel aloft in his hands and blinked down at the sweet smelling hill of fabrics.

“Ah…Is there something you haven’t been telling us?” Tor asked loudly from the doorway. “I’m totally down with it, if it’s your thing…”

“Shut up, Tor! FUCK!” Sandor looked at the offending empty duffel in his hand and started to examine it more closely. “Fuck, it’s not mine.” He found a pair of dog tags attached… dog tags he had assumed were his when he had picked the bag up at the airport. “J. Snow, PVT”

“J. Snow?” Tor picked up a wispy blue something or other and held it out to examine it. “Pretty clothes for a pretty… do I say girl or boy? I don’t know the rules anymore. I shouldn’t assume.”

Sandor picked up a light pink scrap of … something … an eye patch? A second circle unfolded as it hung from his fingertips… a double eye patch? Fuck, it’s a bikini top! He dropped it like it burned him.

Tor whistled lowly and Sandor looked over at him dangling a sunflower yellow piece of lace from his pinky “Boy, girl or basketball, I want to see this on someone. POD! Come put this on!”

Bronn laughed as he wandered into their room with Pod following behind.

“Well, well, what do we have here, you sly dog?” Bronn started rifling through the clothes and picked up what had to be the teeny, tiny bottoms to match the pink bikini top Sandor had previously discovered. “This won’t fit you.”

Pod rolled his eyes and checked out the dog tag “I’ll get Varys to find this… soldier.” He left the three men looking though the clothes.

Sandor picked up a little cosmetic bag and opened it to a burst of fresh flowery scent.

“You know this person is probably going through your bag right now too.” Bronn pointed out as he held up a powder blue push-up bra to his chest.

“Nothing in it but socks and undies, good luck to them.” Sandor grunted. He thought for a moment… Nah, nothing embarrassing... there was his service sidearm though. He pulled a hairbrush out from the cosmetic bag… a red head?

He held up the brush with a few fine, auburn hairs clinging to it. “Might be Tyrions stripper.”

“Nah, he said voluptuous.” Bronn replied. looking meaningfully at the small cup sizes of the bra that he was holding.

Tor snorted.

“Let’s put this shit back.” Sandor started shoving the clothes back into the duffel, swiping a moss green g-string out of Tors hand as it ascended towards his nose.

Everything was stowed and the tie pulled tight when Pod came back into the room.

“Jon Snow of Jeor Mormonts regiment up at Castle Black. He said he’s lent it to his cousin.” Pod advised them, “Sansa Stark is in this hotel, she’s coming to swap bags shortly.”


	2. The Ladies

**The Ladies**

"You can't use that suitcase." Catelyn Stark proclaimed as she began unpacking all of Sansas carefully folded beach clothes and piled them back onto the bed. "It's too fancy, it'll make you a target for thieves."

"Mother!" Sansa started indignantly.

"No, go and ask Jon for his ratty, old duffel bag." Cat Stark continued to empty Sansas favourite vintage peach floral luggage. What was the point of having matching luggage if you never got to use it?

Sansa glared at her overly solicitous mother for a moment with pursed lips before stomping her foot impatiently and flouncing from the room in search of her cousin. She passed Arya in the hallway.

"Are you allowed to use your own suitcase?" Sansa snapped.

"Nah, I've got Robbs." Aryas mouth was full of potato crisps. "Thieves, you know."

Sansa rolled her eyes and sailed on towards Jons room. She knocked sharply and barged in.

"Jon... Mum says I need to borr... Oh Goodness!" Sansas faced flushed pink and she quickly turned back towards the door... having 'interrupted' her cousin and his girlfriend. 

Ygritte burst out laughing and Jon groaned frustratedly. "Cat says what?" He asked in a resigned tone.

Sansa carefully covered her eyes and half turned towards the partially dressed pair, talking to them over her shoulder.

"Ahem... mum says I need to use your spare duffel bag... May I borrow it please?"

Sansa heard Jon clamber off his bed and rustle around in his wardrobe. "Is she still on about thieves? Or is she on to stalkers now?" He enquired as he pulled a dusty green duffel out, nearly collapsing a carefully balanced pile of crap that he had tetris'd in there.

"Still on thieves." Sansa replied as she turned fully, relaxing as he handed her the bag and was now fully clothed though thoroughly rumpled. Ygritte waved cheerily from the bed, her top now back in place. "I expect a rape alarm and global tracking system is still forthcoming though." She smiled weakly. "Thank you, Jon. Sorry to disturb."

Jon grinned. "S'all good Sans, at least it wasn't Rickon this time... I'm still answering awkward questions about that."

Sansa giggled and quickly left with a smile at Ygritte. She heard the lock click into place as the door closed behind her and blushed. Well... it should have been locked to begin with.

She met Arya in the hallway again.

"Are you seriously ready? Do you have everything?"

Arya put on her most superior expression. " _I've_ been packed and ready since this morning and Yes, I have everything I need." She sauntered away again with a condescending eyebrow raised at her sister.

Sansa huffed and rushed back to her room where her mother snatched the duffel from her and began loading it with Sansas things.

"I want you to buy a taser when you land." Cat Stark lectured. "And one of those GPS keychains."

"Mother, we're going to The Summer Isles, not downtown Braavos."

"You'll do as I say." Cat snapped. "Or you'll find yourself kidnapped and in thrown into a harem in Astapor."

Sansa gave an unladylike snort at her mothers theatrics.

Cat Stark straightened and turned to her daughter. "I'm not kidding young lady, I can show you dozens of new reports if you'd like. The Summer Isles are still a foreign country and a group of young women should not be going unaccompanied. I want you and your sister to look out for each other and be vigilant."

"Yes mother." Sansa murmured quietly.

Cat nodded her head at her seemingly contrite daughter. "You're packed. Do you have your passport? E Ticket?"

Sansa nodded "I've got everything in my document purse, in my satchel."

Cat approached and embraced her daughter. "I'm going to to miss you two, I want you to have fun, but come home safely."

Sansa allowed the coddling for as long as her mother applied it and was relived when Cat finally distanced herself, patted her on the cheek affectionately and went to find Arya.

It wasn't like the Stark girls hadn't been away from home before, they'd just finished up their tenure at Light of the Maiden Septas College. The most prestigious girls preparatory school in the whole of Westeros. They had been gone from home every school year since they were 11years old. But now they were graduated and, after the obligatory return home, they were off to have a final summer fling in paradise before they had to start university in Kings Landing in the Autumn. Their circle of friends had been planning it all year. Sansa and Margaery were set to start at Sept of Baelors Womens College, Jeyne was going to Oldtown IT and Brienne and Arya to KLU. This would be the last time they would all be together.

Sansa looked over at her 'luggage' and pouted... it didn't have a handle or any wheels, she'd have to lug it around like a pack mule. She sighed as she hauled it over her shoulder and humped it downstairs to join Aryas bags (or rather, Robbs ugly tattered black leather Airforce tote) by the front door before joining her sister in the kitchen where Ayra was still eating and typing furiously at her phone, most likely to her boyfriend. Sansa slid into the stool beside her sister and took out her own phone to choose a novel to read on the flight, waiting for their car to take them to the airport.

It wasn't too long before their driver rang the doorbell and the Stark family overran the foyer to see the girls off. Sansa and Arya were duly smothered by their mother, hugged normally by their siblings and extended family and patted awkwardly by their stoic father. Rickon chattered the whole time about which souvenirs he'd like them to bring back for him, everything from sweets to tribal weaponry, which would never clear customs and probably weren't legal anyway. The girls finally extricated themselves from their familys clutches and breathed huge sighs of relief as they flopped into the back of the private taxi. Arya suddenly sat up urgently and wrenched the door open again, scrambling out muttering "Passport!... Fuck!" waving her family away as she dashed back inside again. Sansa chuckled meanly. _She_ had everything she needed!

They eventually made it onto the road, once Arya had endured another round of goodbyes, and the trip to the airport was quick. The check in was quick, the boarding was quick and before they knew it they were winging their way to Kings Landing to meet the rest of the ladies and their transfer to Lotus Port.

The terminal at Kings Landing was packed with holiday makers. Sansa and Arya looked around for their friends. Arya stood up on a chair to see over the heads of the masses around them and chortled when she caught sight of them. She grabbed her sisters arm and tugged her in the correct direction. Standing over by the car rental stall was Brienne holding up a sign bespeckled with glitter and surrounded by a bright pink feather boa reading 'Stark Sisters'. Brienne was obviously chosen to hold the sign because of her formidable height, but she didn't look happy about it.

Margaery and Jeyne surged forwards with happy squeals to engulf Sansa in a group hug as soon as they caught sight of her. Arya and Brienne opted for a more dignified fist bump as Bri tossed their carefully made sign in the trash.

They didn't have too much time to bond and complete their enthusiastic greetings as the boarding call for their connecting flight came over the PA system almost immediately. They hustled over to their gate chatting and laughing the whole way, the euphoria of being free, young adults in the summertime overflowing from them and infecting those around them with their smiles. They barreled into the plane and shimmied into their seats, occupying the back row and one seat in the next. Margaery took that one, spending the entire flight on her knees, leaning over the back of her seat to converse with her crew and giving the man sitting next to her a full time view of her shapely bum in cut-off denims. He didn't seem to mind too much.

Sansas eye kept wandering to the back of an exceedingly tall mans head. He was sitting near the front of the plane and he seemed to take up his whole row. His shoulders were breathtakingly wide and strained at the stitches of the flannel shirt that he was wearing. His head, covered in long, jet back hair and tied carelessly at the nape, almost touched the air vents in the roof. Every now and then, he leaned over to say something to the man across the aisle from him, another big guy with a mop of ginger hair and a face full of beard. Sansa liked tall men. She wondered just how tall the gentleman was.

It seemed like no time at all and the captain was announcing their descent into Lotus Port. The ladies began squirming in their seats with excitement, and making happy noises to accompany their movements. Even Bri, who was normally the more sedate of the group, seemed to be chomping at the bit to find herself a cocktail and a beach blanket in the scorching summer sun.

Sansa got one last look at the back of the tall mans head as he hurried from the plane as soon as the cabin door opened. She grinned to herself as she imagined running into that massive chest in a serendipitous meet-cute at some stage during their trip. The ladies exited the plane at a more leisurely pace, though with their hearts full of lightness and friendship. They made their way to the baggage claim and dutifully waited until all of their bags were assembled on three separate carts. All of them turned their eyes first to Margaery who seemed to have packed for several months rather than two weeks and had an entire cart to herself full of matching Louis Vuitton Suitcases with brass plate labels naming her as a Tyrell, to Sansa and Arya who had a scruffy duffel bag each.

"What in heavens?" Margaery exclaimed, looking down at the sad bags in shock.

Sansa huffed. "Mother said if we bought our own bags, we'd be robbed, kidnapped and sent to a harem in Astapor."

Margaery burst into a tinkling laugh. "Goodness, how stimulating. I wonder if that will happen to me?"

"My mum said it would be a harem in Meereen." Jeyne frowned, looking at her custom wheely luggage covered in owl prints.

They all looked at Brienne with raised eyebrows.

"Volantis" She supplied with a shrug. "I pity the fool who tries to kidnap me though." She flexed her crossfit inflated muscles. 

"Am I the only one who wasn't warned about Essosi harems?" Margaery pouted.

"Maybe they thought you were quite capable of looking after yourself." Sansa said encouragingly.

"Maybe they just don't like you." Arya added unhelpfully.

Margaery gave her a hard look before bursting into laughter again. "Ridiculous, everyone loves me." She batted the younger Stark sister on the arm playfully. "You're such a card, Arya. Come, we should find our car, the sooner we get to the hotel the sooner we can drown in exotic cocktails"

With Jeyne, Arya and Brienne pushing the carts, Margaery and Sansa wandered behind them with their arms linked into the blazing Summer Isles sun. The ladies immediately began to wilt.

"Whew...Right ladies, time to dress more appropriately, I think." Margie said with a clap of her hands. She pulled her loose jumper up over her head revealing a tiny gold lame string bikini top and acres of golden skin that turned the heads of no few men in the immediate area.

Brienne shed her shirt in favour of a black sports bra, Arya tugged off her jeans and wore her long tee shirt as a short dress and both Jeyne and Sansa pulled off their shirts and went about in little singlets with shoe string straps. Sunglasses were judiciously applied to faces. 

Once hastily re-clad, they looked about for their car, finding it very quickly. It stuck out like a sore thumb. The large pink Humvee limo was illegally parked just outside of the terminal with a driver standing straight next to it holding the sign. 'Tyrell Party'.

"Oh Margie... think of your carbon footprint." Jeyne breathed disappointedly.

"Tosh, it's a Biodiesel." Margie breezed, starting off towards the monster vehicle.

Once they had all piled in, Arya immediately began pushing all of the available buttons and Jeyne poured herself and everyone else a glass of water. Brienne got everyones attention, digging a sheaf of paper out of her carry-on.

"Right ladies, as my last official act of mother-hening you guys... here is the itinerary" She handed out a sheet to each of her friends, a couple rolled their eyes. "There's only a few things that we absolutely _have_ to do the rest of the time we'll wing it."

"'Wing it'... meaning drink and sunbathe." Arya added.

"Well, obviously." Brienne smiled. "There's an open day at the Last Lament Country Club on Tuesday... I thought Tennis and Golf and then the clubhouse for the day?"

"Oh, good idea Bri. They have the best menu at the clubhouse and the tennis pros are dreamy." Margie enthused, wiggling in her seat in excitement.

Bri continued on "There's an all day beach party hosted by the hotel on Wednesday called 3B Day, it might be nice to meet the locals."

They all murmured their agreement.

"And there is apparently a major Mixed Martial Arts event on Friday. It's a big deal. It's being televised on pay per view. Sound Good?"

"I don't know about that one." Jeyne said softly with a wrinkle in her nose. "I don't think I'd like to watch men hurting each other..."

"It's not just men, there're some amazing women on the card as well. I'm totally in for that one."Arya looked amped and started ferociously punching the air.

"It's okay, Jeyne. You can sit that one out if you want. I can scalp your ticket with no worries." Bri smiled gently at her. Jeyne was a little more sensitive that the rest of them. She smiled gratefully.

"I have us all booked in for a spa day next Monday." Brienne continued. "To chill us out after what will sure be a big weekend."

There were enthusiastic nods from all but Arya who rolled her eyes, though she didn't say anything to get out of it.

"We'll need to stake our claim on the best deck chairs first thing in the morning." Margie advised sagely. "Maybe Bri, Sansa or I could lay our towels out when they go the gym in the morning?"

"Or I can, when I go for my run." Jeyne added happily.

"Right then, we're all sorted. Four days of activities, and the rest to swim, sunbathe and sample the local booze." Bri straightened her shoulders. "And that's it. Ladies, this is your last warning, I am _done_ being the responsible one. No more making sure you get home safe, no more holding back your hair when you puke. It's my turn now."

"Hurrah indeed." Margie cheered, patting Bri on the arm.

Less than an hour later, the garish Humvee pulled under the grass canopy at the hotels entrance and the ladies alighted, chatting happily and hurrying to check in. Sansa thought that she caught a glimpse of a tall, dark haired man by the elevator pool and wondered if the man from the plane was in her hotel. Goodness, maybe that meet-cute could happen for real. She giggled to herself and started as a dark skinned beauty placed a string of beads and pretty shells over her head. She accepted the blooming hibiscus in her hair and a bright yellow beverage with a gasp of delight.

Check in took no time, thanks to Margaerys connections and they were soon in the elevator heading up to the penthouse suite on the fourth floor. The suite was predictably sublime and Sansas room was breathtaking, culminating with large glass doors leading out to a balcony, overlooking the beach with its endless turquoise water and sugar white sand. She needed to unpack fast and get down to that beach.

Her bag was already sitting on her bed, thanks to the discreet penthouse staff. She rushed over to dig out her pink bikini and was stunned to reach in and pull out a very, very large white mens vest instead. What the?

She dug in again and this time pulled out a pair of very, very large mens cammo board shorts. She had the wrong bag.

"Oh no." She wailed.

Arya was first in the room upon hearing her sisters cry.

"Whats wrong?" Arya cried, "You okay?"

"This isn't my bag." Sansa wailed again.

"What?" Arya came over to the bed and began examining the duffel. She found the dog tags and read them out loud, "S. Clegane, CPT. Shit, these are SAS tags." She immediately began digging through the bag. 

"Arya, stop that." Sansa scolded. "That's someones private things."

Arya ignored her. "He wears boxer briefs." Arya crowed, waving a pair of dark grey man-knickers around.

"What's going on in here, then?" Margaery inquired from the door with Jeyne peeking out from beside her and Brienne towering over her head.

"I've gone and picked up the wrong duffel bag at the airport, haven't I." Sansa sulked, only to have the other ladies rush over to look as well. 

"Oh, he's a big one, isn't he?" Jeyne giggled, holding up the mans vest to herself like it was a dress.

Sansa cell phone suddenly rang and she turned from the carnage to answer.

"Hey Sans." Jons voice was on the other end of the call and he sounded amused. "I just had a call from a guy from the Westeros Central Intelligence Service?"

"Oh Gosh... I didn't steal the bag, it was just a mistake."

"Yeah yeah..." Jon laughed. "The owner has your bag. He's in Suite Two on the third floor. Tell Arya to stop going though his stuff, there's a gun in there. Have fun." The call disconnected with another laugh from her cousin.

Sansa squeaked. "Arya! Stop!"


	3. Sunday - The Meeting

**Sunday - The Meeting**

Sansa wrangled the strangers underwear away from her sister and began shoving his clothes back into the duffel.

"That was Jon." Sansa was super stressed, the man would know that they went through his stuff, how mortifying. "Captain Clegane is on the floor below us, I have to go and swap our bags."

"Ooh, Ooh. I'm coming too." Ayra bounced on Sansas bed excitedly.

"Me too." Margaery added and was echoed by Jeyne and Bri.

Sansa looked at each of them exasperatedly. "We can't all descend on the poor man en-mass."

"Of course we can, Sans." Bri said, taking the duffle and hoisting it up over her shoulder. "Every mans fantasy, isn't it. And we're not about to let you go to a strange mans room all alone."

She left Sansas room with the other girls following behind her, giggling naughtily.

"We should change." Margie schemed as they wandered out. "I have the tiniest bikini in the world in my bag."

"Tinier than that?" Arya balked unbelieving, pointing at the tiny gold bikini that she was already almost wearing.

"Oh Arya..." Margie sighed condescendingly, as she swanned into her room.

\--------------------------------------------------

Jamie shouldered his way into Sandors room with his brother and Varys in tow behind him.

"Show me the knickers!" He ordered with a laugh.

"Already packed up again." Bronn informed him glaring at the killjoy holding the bag protectively to his chest. Jamies face fell.

"She might be on her way right now," Sandor growled, clutching the bag closer, "Do you want her to catch you sniffing her g-string?"

He marched out into the shared space with the rest following.

"Yes... Yes I do." Jamie called.

"With the state of her panties, I bet she's young and hot with legs up to her tits." Tor surmised wistfully as he exited the bedroom. "We already know she's a ginger..."

"Do we? Fantastic." Jamie rubbed his hands together.

"Gentlemen, please... Are you all animals?" Varys chipped in with a disappointed shake of his head.

"Yes!" Bronn, Tor and Jamie responded in unison with wide grins splitting their faces.

There was a robust knock at the suite door, drawing several sets of eager male eyes. They all froze for a beat. Sandor snorted at them all and made for the door, prompting Tor to grab the bag out of his hand with a laugh and Bronn to leap on him with a subdued war cry. An impromptu wrestling match ensued.

\--------------------------------------------------

The ladies gathered around the suite door in a pack, practically fizzing with anticipation.

Margaery had taken a little time to 'freshen up', which in Margie speak meant: try on a few outfits, do your hair and apply make-up. She had, as promised, doned a miniscule silver bikini and a transparent white sarong that teetered on the swell of her lush hips (to attempt at least some kind of show of modesty). She had a frangipani flower behind her ear and slick lip gloss offensively called 'post blowjob plush' slathered on her plump lips.

The other ladies had similarly, though not quite as overtly, prettied themselves up a bit. Bri had exchanged her trackies for a small pair of red athletic shorts that rode the tops of her strong thighs and had changed into a more appealing black sports bra. She had a red hibiscus, like Sansas, nestled at her temple and held in place by her sunglasses. Jeyne had changed into a short floral sundress to match the pretty spray of butterfly weed in her hair. Aryas concession to 'freshening up' was to add a skinny belt to her long tee shirt, highlighting her nipped in waist and changing from her bra to an olive coloured string bikini top, whose ties peeked out from the neckline. She had thrown her flower away almost as soon as it was gifted to her and her string of beads and shells was with the others still in their suite.

Sansa had nothing to change into, so she could do nothing but present herself in her tight little singlet and short tennis skirt... now sans pantyhose. She had borrowed some lip gloss, brushed her hair and pinched her cheeks to a soft blush.

Bri wasted little time in thumping her fist against the door labelled 'Suite 2' on the third floor.

There was silence for a moment and then what sounded like a fight broke out on the other side of the door. The girls exchanged confused looks. Jeyne looked particularly worried, especially when they heard... "Ow! Fuck off, you bastard!" being hollered from inside the room.

"What do you suppose...?" Margaery began before the door opened and they were greeted cordially by a man in a full 1920's style linen suit complete with a panama hat.

"Ah. Hello ladies." He saluted them with the tip of his hat.

It was what was going on behind him, in the interior of the room, that was the most interesting though. The ladies eyes all widened as they beheld a dogpile of burly men frozen in various contorted positions of combat, one held very securely in a painful looking headlock by another, while a dwarf stood to the side in a flowery shirt, seeming to be cheering them on.

Sansa cleared her throat quietly and stepped forwards.

"Ummm... Sorry to disturb but is _this_ Captain Cleganes room?" She enquired hesitantly.

"Yes, yes it is young miss. I'm Varys Rugen," He extended his hand out to her as if nothing was amiss, "I spoke to your cousin Jon on the telephone, you must be Sansa."

Sansa shook his hand politely, with a small confused smile on her lips.

Further inside the room, the men were distangling themselves and Sansas eyes widened exponentially as the man in the centre of it all took to his feet from the floor and straightened to his full height, pulling his longish black hair back from his face.

First of all, he was gigantic! If he wasn't seven foot tall, he was close enough that it didn't even matter. He was muscular to the point of obscene... In his plain white vest, his sweat sheened shoulders and arms rippled dauntingly, the sun darkened skin stretched taut over mountains of firm flesh. His body was peppered liberally with dark hair and silvery scars. A pair tattoos strained to encompass his bulging biceps.

Sansa was struck speechless and she hadn't even reached his face yet... it was such a long journey up; from the heavy combat boots, up his hip hugging, low slung classic cut jeans, over the hills and mountains of his torso and up further still to... Oh My Gosh!

She almost cried out at the shock of his wrecked face.

Half was perfectly handsome with high cheekbones and a strong jaw. His facial hair was too long to be called stubble but too short to really be called a beard, but it looked magnificent on him. He had dark eyebrows and long lashes surrounding eyes like a leaden sky.

The other half was a wretched mass of twisted scarring. No words could describe the way her stomach fell when she imagined the pain that must have occurred upon receiving and healing from whatever trials had inflicted such a horrendous wound. Her gentle heart ached for him.

 _He must keep his dark hair long to try and hide his affliction_ she thought sadly. Though in truth, she thought his long hair, now lank and dampened with sweat, was quite sexy.

She realised then that both she and her friends were staring... Open mouthed, extremely rude staring at the poor man with various degrees of horror on their faces and as she watched, his face fell and darkened considerably. His brow drew down and his forehead wrinkled into an eventual scowl. He turned at the hip, yanking her duffel bag from a tall red heads hand and stomped towards the ladies. He strode passed Sansa and Varys, plucked his own bag from Brienne and dumped hers at her feet without a word. He then stomped into a room and slammed the door behind him.

Everyone else just sort of, stood around awkwardly for a moment until a devilishly handsome man with golden blond hair suddenly smiled winningly and approached the ladies still hovering in the doorway.

"Jamie Lannister." He introduced himself to Sansa by lifting her limp hand to his lips and kissing her knuckles.

"Sansa Stark." She replied weakly, her eyes still firmly on the closed door that Clegane had stormed through.

Jamie drew her eyes to him with a charming smirk. "Don't worry about him miss, he's just a grumpy old dog. He'll warm up to everyone later once we get a few drinks in him." The smirk turn into a full wattage smile. "Now, let's introduce everyone, shall we?"

\--------------------------------------------------

Sandor sat down heavily on his bed and let his duffel slide to the floor.

He had been rendered immobile by the very sight of her, his ability to speak, to even breathe had completely abandoned him. Even if he could have spoken, he didn't have the poetic vocabulary to describe her. He would always remember that when he first saw her, she was wearing pure white, her hair was a raging fire and her eyes were a flawless summer sky.

And then, as it always was, the 'look' had clouded her perfect face. Everyone got the 'look' when they saw him and it always burned him all over again.

It wasn't something that he could easily hide, like Jamies missing hand or the scarring on Bronns side... It was always right there, like a hideous beacon, carved into the skin of his face. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, tugging it slightly to cover his scars.

He was rude just now... He should go back out there and thank her for bringing his bag back. He was the one who picked up the wrong one to begin with after all. He could swallow his pride long enough to apologise... he just hated that 'look' so much and to see it fall over the face of someone so... 

... He took a moment to appreciate that he may have just fallen in love at first sight... He snorted at his own nounces thought, especially in the wake of what had just occurred. Stupid old dog.

She was young and stunning and he didn't even know her. She probably already had a boyfriend. Not that she'd even _consider_ him and his hamburger face as potential boyfriend material even if she didn't.

He chuckled darkly to himself for being so unutterably moronic. 

"At least you're laughing now." Tor said as he opened their bedroom door and peeked in, "Even if it didn't sound like a happy laugh. Did you see that Blonde? Fuck me! I want that one."

Tor rushed through the room and into the ensuite to turn on the shower. He bustled back in and opened up his wankish suitcase and began rifling through it. 

"I'll need to trim my beard... What do you think of this shirt?"

What the fuck was he on about? What blonde?

"Earth to Sandor." Tor snapped his fingers in front of his eyes. "Shirt? Yes or no?" He fluttered a white shirt with a bamboo design on it, in front of him.

"Whatever. Yes." Sandor replied absently.

Tor seemed happy enough with that and rushed away again. "Are you going to get changed? or are you going like that?" He threw over his shoulder as he entered the ensuite again.

"What are you talking about?" He snapped, irritation colouring his tone.

"Drinks...seven... remember." Tor replied popping his head out of the door again. "Tyrion invited the girls..." He waggled his eyebrows.

Girls? What girls?

Tormund finally noticed Sandors confusion.

"The girls that were just here. The five girls... red head, blonde, brunettes by the score...? Have you received a head injury?" Tor looked at him hard for a moment and then broke into a wide grin of understanding. "You only had eyes for the ginger one... I knew you loved gingers. Haaahaha..."

He was still laughing as he closed the ensuite door and entered the shower.

\--------------------------------------------------

At seven sharp, the men stepped out into the warm night air and looked around the busy open-air cocktail lounge. The five bachelors had showered and changed, though Sandor hadn't really seen the point. He hadn't noticed the other young ladies, that was true, but he knew that a group of old scarred up veterans didn't stand a chance with bright, pretty young ladies. Varys and Tyrion were not on the prowl, at least not for young ladies in Varys' case, so their eyes were fixed firmly on the bar rather than the clientele, and they bee lined for it with relish.

"They're not here." Bronn said, his keen eyes scanning the crowd.

"Girls take ages to get ready, they'll be fashionably late." Pod advised him sagely as he set off towards the bar as well. 

Sandor stomped after him.

"Okay so, the redhead is obviously all Sandors, whether he knows it or not." Bronn spoke softly to Tormund and Jamie as the followed more slowly. "I have my eye on the silver bikini babe."

"The blonde!" Jamie and Tor spoke in unison and then glared at each other. 

Bronn snorted and carried on walking.

When all of them converged on the bar, Jamie and Tor bickering amongst themselves, rather than partake in the local cocktails right away, they all ordered beers with whiskey chasers to ease them into the night. Bronn watched bemusedly as Jamie and Tor began a rock-paper-scissors match for the blonde birds affections. Varys was chatting with the shirtless barman. Tyrion and Podrick were scanning the cocktail menu and arguing over which to try first, but ultimately agreeing that it didn't matter which order they were tried in as they were going to try them all eventually. Sandor sat at the end of the bar and drank in sullen silence.

He was the one that saw them first... or rather saw her first.

She was vision in a yellow sundress, her rich auburn hair flowing over her shoulders in waves of flame. Her exposed skin was almost glowing under the low faux-firelight and her eyes glittered like jewels. She stopped by the door, her pretty face scanning the crowd before those splendid eyes stopped on him. She was completely unreadable for a moment and then she broke into a blinding smile.

Sandor sat slack jawed as he watched her hurry through the crowded bar, heading right for him. 

"Hello Captain Clegane." She said breathlessly as she stopped at his elbow. "I wanted to first apologise for my abominable behavior before and also to thank you for returning my bag." 

What? He looked at her like she was stupid.

"What are you on about, you silly girl?" He rasped gruffly, noting her smile wobble and then fall. "I took the wrong bag to begin with and I was the rude one before.. you should be demanding an apology from me for being a complete dick."

Her sweet, rosebud lips ticked up into a smile once more.

"Alright then." She said shyly. "You should apologise for being a... you know... but I am still sorry that we made you feel uncomfortable before."

She watched his scarred jaw tick as he looked back at her. His eyes narrowed.

"Sorry for being a dick." He grunted, picking up his beer again. "You should go back to your friends now." 

Her smile fell away again at the curt dismissal. "Oh... okay..."

He watched her turn away from him slowly, almost reluctantly, and walk over to a short, dark haired girl and begin whispering to her with a dejected look on her face.

He turned away from them and drank deeply. 

**Author's Note:**

> I put a note on Tumblr about writing another fic and gave three options... I then ignored my own note and started writing all three because I like to torture myself.  
> this is the Modern AU option.


End file.
